Malaika Girma, Sada Bomba
My name is Fikadu Taye, and this is my view of Addis.
I was born in Amhara Kilil in a township by the name of Wela Wela and at the age of 11, my life drastically changed. I lost both of my parents, my father: the gentle soul, and my mother: the harsh and strict but beautiful woman. The community believed that my parents were dying of some unknown disease and were afraid to catch it so they had refused to help me take care of them. Taking care of my parents on my own was difficult, I had to medicate them, and even bury their bodies after they passed. I was only 11.
After the death of my parents, my siblings and I needed somewhere to live, but nobody in the community was willing to take us in. So, we were separated and they were moved to other homes and I took a 58 km trek to my grandparents’ house, where I lived for nearly two years. My grandparents were Muslim so for those two years of my life, so was I.
At the age of 13, my grandparents had decided to send me back to Wela Wela , where I lived and worked for my relatives for the following nine years. For nine years, I worked tirelessly on my relatives' fields, which had taken a toll on my physical self.
Near the end of those nine years, the community decided to find me a wife against my will and at the age of 19, I was married to a 14 year old girl. The following 5 years of my life were not great, and since my wife and I got married so young, and unwillingly at that, we were not able to adjust to our new lives as easily.
At the age of 24, I came to Addis Ababa looking for a job and for a better life. I had left my wife and my 4 month old child in Wela Wela so that I could work. This had affected my relationship with my wife and we stopped speaking to each other, and I had missed my child. I worked multiple jobs to make ends meet and times were very hard. But I returned back to my hometown and convinced my wife to move to Addis Ababa as a family. Times were rough but we made it out and now I am a driver, what I had always wanted to be, in the city of life and opportunities, and I am very happy.
One thing that I love about Addis Ababa is that you have options. Life is easier because if you work, you get money and as long as you do not have addictions, you are fine. I am happy that my 16 year old daughter will never have to experience the things that I went through, and that she will be able to live the life that she desires.
I hope that one day, I will be able to help others because I truly believe in giving and I hope that one day I am able to help as many people as possible.
It hurts me to know that the Ethiopia that gave me a chance, is stripping away opportunities from our new generations. 50 years from now, I would like Ethiopia to get past the conflict and be a unified country with peace. Because my life was full of hardships as a child, but I worked my way to the top, and now I get to experience that peace that I wish for our children.
Addis was my sort of escape and it gave me a way out, and that is my view of Addis, an opportunity.
My name is Birke Taye, and this is my view of Addis.
I was born and raised in Wela Wela until the age of 13, which is when I was sent to Addis Ababa by my parents, in their hopes for a better life for me. I was taken to Addis Ababa by a distant relative, who dropped me off at some people’s home where I spent my years working. I remember my daily cries, longing for the family that I didn’t have in Addis Ababa. I yearned for the childhood that I had, the childhood that I lost as soon as I entered this bustling city. I couldn’t play with my siblings that I loved, instead, I had to work and spend my days wishing for the day that I would reunite with my family.
To this day, I am still waiting because when I was 15, I found out that my parents were sick, but by the time I got back to Wela Wela, my parents were already dead. What hurts me the most is that I wasn’t able to help my brother take care of my parents. At only 11, he was dragging their bodies and burying them in holes. Had I known they were sick, I would have come, but I didn’t know, I was blindsided.
I came back to Wela Wela to find everything twisted onto its head: the community thought our family had a disease, my siblings were living in other houses, my brother had gone to our grandparents’s house, and my parents no longer lived. I was heartbroken and I stayed in Wela Wela, crying for multiple months.
Later on, I visited my brother who was living with our grandparents. As an older sister, you always feel the responsibility to take care of your younger siblings, but sometimes you do not have a choice, you can not raise them on your own. Afterwards, I left my brother and returned back to Addis Ababa.
During the time we were apart, we both eventually had children and now our children are growing up with one another.
Although I wasn’t able to help Fikadu growing up, I was able to help our youngest brother who was only 4 years old when our parents died. I always wanted to bring him to Addis Ababa to give him the education and life that he deserves and now I have, so I am very happy.
I hope that my daughters’ don’t face the hardship that my brother or I faced. I hope they become successful, in whatever way they wish, and that they live a happy life. I hope they find something that gives them comfort and relaxation, like the churches do for me. Although I do wonder what took my parents, being in the church gives me the comfort I longed for, because I know that I will reunite with them one day. And that is my view of Addis; hope.